


Counting Stars

by WistfulGhost



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WistfulGhost/pseuds/WistfulGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Typical university AU. Marco nervously starts at Trost U. He meets Jean, a sophomore. Things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Eurgh, this is my first fic in like 5 or 6 years, oh gods.

Counting Stars

  
Chapter 1: First Day

  
All right. This was it. Day one, go.

  
I took a deep breath to calm my twisting stomach, attempting a determined expression in the mirror. _University, wow!_ I tried telling myself. _Learning new things, meeting new people, starting life as an adult!_ It was an exciting time in anyone’s life, especially a kid from a small town like Jinae. I should be stoked. I should be high as a kite.

  
My dark, freckled reflection just ended up looking kind of constipated.

  
I grimaced at my uncooperative face, then jumped like an electrocuted cat at a sudden hammering on the door. “Yooo, Marco!” my roommate shouted beyond. “Stop pooping, I'm going to be late!”

  
Oh god. I forced a strained smile at myself and pulled open the bathroom door. “Sorry, Connie. First day jitters.”

  
My small, bald roomie pushed past, effectively forcing me out. “It’s university, not yer wedding.” He slammed the door, and his voice echoed from within. “You’ll be fine, all freshmen are nervous at first. Just be yourself or something.”

  
Or something? Was that supposed to be reassuring? “Thanks, Connie,” I called, backing away from the door. “I feel better now.” It was a complete lie, but I was not going to chat with a guy who was taking a crap, much less receive a pep talk from him.

  
My stomach was too coiled up to eat anything. I skipped the kitchen, heading right for the front door. Our third roommate, Bertholdt, had already left, and I found myself wishing I’d asked him to walk with me. I didn’t know Bertl that well, but he felt a lot more approachable than loud Connie, not to mention the sheer height of the guy. He managed to be comforting and intimidating at the same time. I would have been far more relaxed with him walking next to me.

  
I shouldered my backpack and patted my pocket to check for my keys and phone, then stepped out into the brisk September air. Trost really was a beautiful city, far more so than industrial Jinae. It was a university town, just beginning to overflow the small valley it sprawled in. The school itself was in the center by a peanut shaped lake and surrounded by parkland. Each street was picturesque, like something off a postcard, but my favorite was University Avenue, the road with student apartments like the one I shared with Connie and Bertl. It was lined with large trees, the foliage thick enough that it almost seemed to meet in the middle. A week ago when I’d arrived here it had almost looked like a green summer tunnel, sunlight shining through to dapple the pavement with yellow and shadow and the faintest emerald. Now the leaves were just beginning to turn and the trees would soon be afire with fall colors, all yellows and red and oranges on the branches and littering the ground. And in the winter the bare skeletons would stretch up toward cold grey skies, heavy with snow but still reaching high. And in spring they would be dotted with infant leaves poking their shy heads out, wondering if enough frost was gone that they could grow. There was no season where this street would not be beautiful.

  
“Hey, watch it, numbnuts!”

  
I was startled for the second time that morning, leaping out of the way of an oncoming bicycle ridden by a thin, sharp-faced guy around my age. He was scowling, turning as he zipped past to pin me with narrowed brown eyes. “Pay attention to the damn road!” he yelled, as his bike hit a tree.

  
“Oh, shit!”

  
He had gone down in a tangle of limbs and backpack and bicycle, a small cloud of leaves tumbling gently to land on his head. I ran up to him, extracting the bike from his legs and bending to look at his face in alarm. “Are you all right?”

  
He waved me off irritably, ignoring my proffered hand and using the tree to pull himself to his feet. He was quite—understandably—red, but unscathed. “I'm fine,” he grumbled, snatching the bike back. “Thanks.” Then he looked at me, and his head tilted a bit, the scowl fading slightly. “Do I know you?”

  
I blinked a little in surprise, bringing my hand up to scratch the back of my head nervously. “Um, I don’t think so. I just started here.”

  
“Huh.” He was still staring at me, the intensity of his eyes making me fidget uncomfortably. “What’s your name?”

  
“Uh, Marco. Bodt.”

  
His thin mouth twisted a little, though in irritation or confusion I’d never know. “Huh,” he said again, slower this time. “I don’t know a Marco. Weird.”

  
“Um, sorry, I guess.”

  
“Whatever.” He jumped on the bike again and was gone.

  
 _The hell?_

  
I tried to shake off the strange encounter, continuing my walk to school with somewhat more caution than before. I hadn’t even made it to my first class yet and I was already making a bad impression. _Ahh, for Pete’s sake, Marco!_

  
I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that the guy had known me from somewhere, though I hadn’t recognized him, and he hadn’t liked me. I didn’t like the thought of that. I hated when people didn’t like me without getting to know me.

  
Though it had been pretty funny when he’d hit the tree, after telling _me_ to watch the road…

  
Well, at least he hadn’t punched me in the face, and to be honest for a moment there he’d looked like he was going to.

  
I had Intro to Psych first, the class I’d been most looking forward to. I took an unoccupied seat at the back of the room and regretted it almost as soon as the lecture started. The professor was a wheezy little man whose name I couldn’t pronounce for the life of me, and he was not loud. Add to that a thick Russian accent and I was completely lost for all ninety minutes, staring at him in hopeless confusion with a pen dangling between my fingers and a blank notebook page spread before me. I didn’t even know we were dismissed until the first three rows of students began filing up the aisle to the doors.

  
Is… this what university is like?

  
It was not at all like high school, and that was a little depressing.

  
I packed my things slowly, one of the last out the door. I had English Literature later that afternoon, but had at least two hours free until I had to start heading that way. I had planned to do some reading for psych, but since I hadn’t even heard any of the lesson…

  
 _That’s all right!_ I tried to will myself to be confident, and it kind of worked. _I can ask a classmate._ I thought I’d recognized one of Bertl’s friends, a wide shouldered blond guy named Reiner, sitting in one of the lower rows. He’d be able to help me, maybe.

  
I knew Connie had a gap between classes too, and headed to the cafeteria where I hoped he’d be. We weren’t friends, not exactly, but after the disappointing morning and throngs of people surrounding me I was a little desperate for a familiar face. Connie was loud and funny and boiling over with energy and it would be a good pick-me-up.  
He wasn’t there—at least, not that I could see. I did a few rotations of the crowded room, but there was no sign of a short, bald, noisy guy. I was kind of grateful for that; I hated crowds, and was pleased to leave the cafeteria. I paused just outside the door to check my school map, then headed left toward the library. Connie wasn’t too bright, and he was kind of lazy, but it was the second most popular place for students to gather.

  
 _Aha._ I picked him out almost immediately upon walking in. It wasn’t difficult; a part of me was, in fact, wondering if he was in a contest with his best friend, a brunette girl named Sasha, over who would get kicked out of the library first. He spotted me over Sasha’s shoulder as I approached and waved. “Marco!” he stage-whispered, though I was only about ten feet away. “Come sit with us!” He gestured to the round table where he and Sasha and a few others I didn’t recognize were sitting.

  
The invitation spared me the awkwardness of having to ask and I slid in across from Sasha with a smile that I hoped wasn’t overly grateful. “Hi.”

  
“How was your first class?” he asked. “Did you shit yourself yet?”

  
I winced a bit as the table hummed with laughter, glancing at the glaring librarian. “No, it wasn’t so bad,” I lied.

  
“Well, good.” Connie went to his knees on his chair to point everyone out. “Yo, guys, my other roomie Marco. Marco, you know Sash. That’s Ymir, Christa, and oh, I think you’ve met Reiner, and Jean.”

  
They murmured greetings back: a tall, dark-skinned brunette with freckles to rival mine, a completely angelic blonde girl whose sweet smile made me blush a little, the friend of Bertl’s who was built like a quarterback, and the guy I had met this morning. I blinked in surprise and smiled at him; I hadn’t even noticed him next to Reiner. “I know Reiner, and Jean and I met this morning.”

  
He was completely disinterested in the conversation, an unlit cigarette dangling from his thin lips. He barely spared me a glance up from the textbook spread in front of him, making small, neat notes in a binder on his lap. I wondered how he could concentrate with the amount of noise coming from Connie and Sasha right now.

  
I turned my attention to Reiner. “Hey, listen, I'm sorry to ask this when we barely know each other, but I didn’t hear a single word of the lecture in Psych. Could I borrow your notes? I'll have them back to you first thing tomorrow, I promise.”

  
He nodded, pulling a notebook from his backpack and sliding it across the table to me. “Bertl’s got my number if you have any questions.”

  
I slumped a little in relief as I accepted the notebook. “Thanks so much, man, you’re a lifesaver.”

  
“Hey, not a problem.”

  
“So anyway!” Connie cut off my gratitude. “We were just talking, Marco, about the upcoming Zombie Run.”

  
“The what?” I asked blankly.

  
“Are you joking?” Sasha looked at Connie incredulously. “He doesn’t know about the Zombie Run.”

  
“He doesn’t know about the—” Connie shook his bald head, looking almost scandalized. “Freshmen!”

  
“Sssh!” called the librarian.

  
“It’s not his fault,” tiny blonde Christa protested, turning the shine of her smile on me again. “It’s a game. It used to just be played around Halloween, but it was so popular that it’s a weekly thing now. A small group of students are zombies and have to hunt down the rest, who are wearing yellow armbands. If you’re tagged, you get a red armband and have to be a zombie. The survivors can also shoot and ‘kill’ the zombies with Nerf or water guns, but you have to bring your own. The zombie that collects the most yellow armbands gets a prize, and so do the last surviving person and the survivor that collects the most red armbands. It’s fun!”

  
“It’s Friday,” Connie put in. “Every Friday. This week is the first of the fall semester. You should join us!”

  
“Oh.” The invitation took me aback a little; I hadn’t been expecting it. “Um, I’d have to see what homework I had… I’d probably have a lot, I don’t know.” There was already a ton of reading for Psych, according to the syllabus.

  
He blew a raspberry at me. “Boring! You gotta do university shit while you’re here, Marco, ya only have one life.”

  
“I'll see what I have,” I said again. I really did hope it wasn’t much; I’d been here a week and hadn’t been invited out to anything, and this Zombie Run sounded like a good time.  
“Connie and me are zombies this week.” Sasha did a theatrical zombie impression, and Connie joined in with sound effects. Other tables were beginning to glare, and the librarian gave another loud, hissing ‘SSH!’ that again went mostly ignored. “Ymir’s doing our makeup, it’s gonna be fucking awesome.”

  
I looked to the brunette in surprise, and she looked stoically back. “You’re in cosmetology?” I hadn’t pegged her for a makeup student.

  
“Gonna do movie makeup,” she replied. “Zombie Runs are good practice.”

  
“Going is worth it just to see Ymir’s makeup, last time she—”

  
“ _Mister_ Springer.” The librarian’s long hand clamped down on his shoulder and he jumped; we hadn’t even seen her approach. “I am going to have to ask you to leave. Others are trying to study.” She looked pointedly at Jean, who was ignoring everybody. “You better not light that, Mr Kirschtein.”

  
“Yes, ma’am.” Connie made a face at Sasha when the woman turned away, shoving his books into his backpack. “I have class anyway.”

  
“Yeah, me too.” Sasha swept her arm along the table, knocking her things into her own pack in a messy tumble that made me grimace.

  
“We have the same class, dumbass.”

  
“Oh yeah! Hey, let’s grab something to eat first!”

  
“Nacho fries!”

  
“Nacho fries!”

  
The librarian looked about to explode as they boisterously passed her desk and out into the hall. We could still hear them for a full minute afterward, Christa covering her face in embarrassment. She tugged Ymir’s sleeve as Connie and Sasha’s voices faded. “We should go too,” she whispered through her fingers, and the brunette nodded. Christa gave me another angelic smile. “It was nice meeting you, Marco!”

  
“Yeah, you too,” I mumbled, my tongue feeling thick and clumsy.

  
Reiner was watching me, amused. “Don’t worry,” he said as the girls left. “Christa has that effect on everybody. Careful of Ymir, though, she might beat you up.” He stretched, spine popping almost gruesomely. “Anyway, I'm meeting Bertl for lunch. You’re welcome to join us, Jean, Marco.”

  
I shook my head. “I should get on these.” I tapped his notebook. “Thanks, though.”

  
Jean merely grunted, still immersed in his note-taking, and Reiner shrugged. “Suit yourselves. Later.”

  
Quiet descended on the table, and I felt almost as loud as Connie as I pulled my own notebook and pen from my backpack and flipped to a clean page. I glanced nervously at Jean; he hadn’t seemed to notice, scowling down at his textbook and rolling that cigarette absently between his lips. I shifted to a slightly more comfortable position and began copying Reiner’s notes.

  
We must have sat there for an hour before either of us said a word, the only sound the scratching of our pens on the paper and the occasional throat clearing. Reiner’s writing was, frankly, awful, and I was having a terrible time deciphering his chicken scratch, but I couldn’t really complain too much. He had lent them to me, a complete stranger, without a second thought. He was a good guy, I reflected gratefully.

  
“So what’s your major?”

  
I looked up at Jean, a little surprised he was talking to me. His attention was still on his textbook, sandy hair falling in his eyes. “Uhh, psychology. You?”

  
“Business. Where ya from?”

  
“Jinae. It’s a really small town, down south.”

  
“I know where it is.” He took the cigarette from his lips, laying it carefully next to his textbook. He was still writing.

  
“Really?” I grinned. “Barely anyone knows what I'm talking about when I say Jinae. Have you been?”

  
“Used to go during the summer, my grandparents lived there.”

  
“That’s probably why you recognized me,” I offered. “It is a small town.”

  
He finally looked up, studying me with those steady eyes. “Probably,” he said after a long moment of me shifting in my seat. “You know anything about math?”

  
I loved math, and was a little relieved that the change in subject took his perturbing gaze off of me. “What kind?”

  
“Calculus.” He shoved his things over to my side, going around the table to slump in the chair next to mine. “This one.” He tapped the page of his textbook.

  
I pulled it a little closer, glancing up at his notes, then back at the problem. “Oh! You just put the wrong numbers in the formula, and you have to flip b. So 1/8 will just be 8.” I flipped my notebook to a blank sheet, going through the problem with him. His scowl deepened as he focused on the numbers, making him look far more terrifying. I was beginning to think, though, that he mostly looked like that when he was concentrating, and maybe it shouldn’t be taken personally.

  
It took one run-through for him to get it and he gave a short nod, bending over his notebook again. “Thanks. You’re good at that.”

  
“Math was my favourite subject in high school. If you ever need help, you can ask me.”

  
“Thanks,” he said again, and everything was quiet for several more minutes. The silence was lighter now though, not the uncomfortable hush of awkward strangers but more the simple stillness of… friends was far too strong a word for someone I had only talked to twice, but there was a sort of companionship between us now. It was easy sitting there with Jean doing homework; I didn’t feel fidgety like I normally did with people, which was a nice change. I was almost a little disappointed when he stood up abruptly, closing his books and sliding them carefully into his backpack. “I have class. You goin to that zombie thing Friday?”

  
It was only Tuesday, there was no way I’d know how much homework I’d have by Friday. I shrugged. “It depends on my homework situation.”

  
“Guess I'll see you later then.” He swung his backpack onto his shoulder and left.

  
The rest of the day was all classes for me; it was my busiest afternoon, three lectures back to back. My final one, biology, was on the opposite end of campus from my math class, and I arrived panting and sweaty and five minutes late. It was a far smaller class than my intro to psych one, and everyone looked up as I came in. Oh god, it was high school all over again. I ducked my head, glad my dark skin hid my blush, and sat in the only empty seat at the back with a murmur of apology. The professor, a bespectacled auburn-haired woman, snatched a clipboard from her desk and brought it to me. “Write your name down,” she ordered, standing there as I awkwardly signed the sheet of paper. I managed a quick glance before she whisked it away again, but didn’t catch any familiar names.

  
Professor Zoe continued her introduction, telling us what we would be learning through the semester and what we could expect from the course. She segued smoothly into her lecture, so fast that I almost missed it and had to scramble to get my pen out of my bag. She was the polar opposite of my psych professor, loud and enthusiastic and bouncing around the room. She went on fascinating tangents and cracked jokes and so obviously loved her subject that it was hard not to like her, even if we didn’t do much biology.  
Halfway through, when Professor Zoe had her back turned to the class, a ball of paper landed on my desk with a light tap. It made me jump, scrawling a thick line through half a page of notes, and I looked around in confusion for the perpetrator. My eyes met Jean’s, halfway across the room. He nodded at the paper, mouthing something at me that looked like ‘open it.’

  
I gave him a bemused look but obeyed. I hadn’t even noticed him when I came in, but then again I hadn’t really been looking. I unfolded the crumpled sheet of paper, squinting at the hastily scribbled message within.

  
 _hey you a genius at bio too?_

  
Genius? I smirked a little at that; guy sure knew how to stroke an ego. I glanced up at Prof Zoe, still speaking about the digestive system with an expression of rapture on her face, and quickly wrote a reply.

  
 _Having trouble? You did make me scribble all over my notes, idk why I should help you…_

  
He caught the ball easily, his face quickly becoming a scowl as he read it. His next toss almost hit me in the head, and I'm pretty sure he did that on purpose.

  
 _dont be an ass ill make it up to you then what is she even talking about right now?_

  
I tuned back in to the lecture for a moment, grinning as I wrote my response. _Something about wallabies. It has nothing to do with the subject material, don’t worry. I'll help you out. Come over after class?_

  
He read it with a grimace. _you live w springer don’t you? fine ill follow you back to your place._

  
I nodded back at him, crumpling up the paper and stuffing it in my pocket to throw out later. Connie was an acquired taste, if I was being honest, and from what I’d seen of Jean I wasn’t surprised he didn’t like my roommate.

  
The rest of the class passed quite quickly, Prof Zoe’s bubbly enthusiasm making even biology almost fun, and it seemed like only ten minutes later she was dismissing us into the flurry of activity that ended each class. Jean was next to my desk in almost a second, shouldering his backpack and glancing tensely around the crowd. “Let’s go.”

  
“Sure.” I picked up my own bag, pushing through the throng, Jean following close behind. The classroom was right next to the east wing exit, and the cool breeze was welcome after the stifling heat of being in a crowd. I breathed in the evening almost greedily, standing to the side with Jean as he unlocked his bike from the rack. The air was so much cleaner here than in Jinae, despite Trost easily being four times its size. Jinae was covered in factories that belched out thick dark smoke to make whatever it was that the factories were making. I’d seen very little evidence of that here. You could even see stars in the Trost night sky, though it was too cloudy for them to show themselves tonight.

  
“You live on University Avenue?” Jean asked, wheeling his bike next to me along the sidewalk.

  
“Building 6,” I replied. There were twelve student apartment buildings along the street, with six suites spread across three floors. They weren’t owned by the university, but the company that did own the buildings would only let students live there. There was enough room to fit three comfortably, though Connie said that some people managed to squeeze in five. Rent was cheap and they weren’t bad apartments, so demand was pretty high for them. I was still pinching myself that I’d gotten into one and didn’t have to live in the dorms.

  
“Building 2. Can’t believe I was lucky enough to get one.”

  
“Me neither! Almost crapped myself.”

  
He snorted in amusement. “I hear ya on that. But you got Springer as a roommate, so was it really lucky?”

  
I laughed. “You don’t really like him, do you?”

  
“He annoys the piss outta me.”

  
I tilted my head in confusion. “You were sitting with him earlier, in the library.”

  
He lit the cigarette he'd tucked behind his ear, taking a long drag. The smoke was blue against the twilight sky. “They sat with me, not the other way around.”

  
We moved easily into a conversation about my roommates. It turned out that Jean knew Connie from high school, and had quite a few stories about his antics with Sasha. Like the time she broke her arm falling out of a window after stealing a bag of potatoes from the home ec room. Or the two climbing to the roof to hang a banner bashing a rival high school’s sports team with very… colorful drawings and the school’s administration still didn’t know it was them. He was a good storyteller, and my stomach hurt from laughter by the time we were walking into my apartment, Connie and Sasha poking their heads out of the kitchen in curiosity. “Jean?” Connie asked, a devilish grin on his face. “You’re making someone laugh instead of cry?”

  
Jean scowled, the laughter gone from his brown eyes. “Piss off, Springer, I was tellin him shit about you two morons.”

  
Connie didn’t seem too concerned by that, merely flipping the taller boy the bird. “Make sure you tell him about Mikasaaa!” he called, ducking back into the kitchen. I could hear him and Sasha giggling around the corner, the smell of something rather interesting wafting out.

  
Jean was bright red, kicking off his shoes. I grinned at him. “Your girlfriend?”

  
“No,” he muttered. “Where are we doing this?”

  
I glanced at the kitchen. “Uh, we can go to my room.” I had the feeling he’d rather not be around Connie.

  
There was no room at my cramped desk so we set ourselves up in the middle of my floor, spreading our books across the carpet. Jean was a smart guy; once something was in his brain it stuck, though it could take a couple tries to get it in there. I was patient though, not letting his grumbles and scowls get under my skin, but it wasn’t long before we were off on other topics, biology completely forgotten. He was so easy to talk to, so much more so than Connie or even calm Bertl. It was difficult for me to talk to people like this, but I somehow forgot all that awkwardness when I was talking to Jean.

  
We sprawled on the floor next to my bed, talking everything from high school to childhood pets. He had a much, much older sister in her late thirties that he didn’t talk to much, and almost seemed jealous of my little brother still in high school. “He’s a snotty little monster!” I complained.

  
“Yeah, but at least you can relate to him a little!” he replied.

  
Neither of us had noticed how dark the sky had gotten until Jean checked the time on his phone, then jumped up with a curse. “I got to go. I have an early class tomorrow.”

  
I forced down my disappointment as I sat up, looking at my own phone. It was past nine thirty already? Had that much time really gone by? Jean was scribbling something down on a piece of notebook paper, tearing it off and tossing it to me. “You’re cool. Here’s my number. Might need your help again soon.”

  
I fumbled with the bit of paper, feeling almost embarrassed. “Uh, sure. Anytime.”

  
“See ya.” And he was gone, leaving the open door and a faint sense of loneliness behind him.

  
I looked down at the chunk of paper still clutched in my hand, then picked up my phone to enter his information in. _Well… day one and I got someone’s number._ Did that make us friends?

I found myself rather hoping it did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, guys, this took a lot of guts for me to put up. Please don't kill me with your sharp, sharp words. Love, Ghost <3


End file.
